Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Heather Foster, who liked to think of herself as both an independent young woman and an innocent virgin, liked to look at men’s big cocks. Heather Foster, her bottom burning from her first spanking, wanted to suck her master’s massive penis, in hopes that maybe he would reward her with the climax she so desperately craved.
Frightened as she was of what it would finally feel like, Heather Foster needed the enormous penis inside her body, everywhere its owner—her owner—chose to put it.
“You may hold it in your hands first,” Ivan said, his voice low in tone but also growly with what I thought must be the strength of his own sexual need.
His words had seemed to come from high above me when he had restrained me over his knee and spanked my bottom until I screamed in agony. This permission to touch his manhood, though, seemed to descend from the heavens. I was forbidden to look up at his face, to judge whether my degrading submission to his lust pleased him so that he would allow me pleasure, too, or only with its virginal clumsiness made him more likely to spank me again, to reprimand me for my faults in service.
My hands shook violently as I raised them. My breath came in ragged little pants and I could feel the rapid pulse jump in my throat. Down below, my hips gave a humiliating twitch, as if my aching, unopened sheath couldn’t restrain its wanton need to move atop the rigid pole of my owner’s manhood.
“Gently, girl,” Ivan warned, raising his voice just a little, as if concerned that the inexperience betrayed by my trembling hands might force him to punish me as an educational measure.
I knew a girl had to treat her master’s cock with great care, though. I knew it from a biological standpoint—that despite its menace and its arrogance and its solidity, my owner’s penis was one of the most sensitive parts of his body. I also knew it from a purely instinctive, psychological perspective, though. The enormous cock I took gingerly into my grasp represented the symbol of my master’s power and authority over me. Surely I should be punished if I treated its warm throbbing shaft or its fluted head with anything less than the reverent respect Ivan obviously expected.
“Up and down, now,” his deep voice said. “It’s time to learn to be a good girl for me. Nice and slowly, at first.”
I knew that part, too, just because it seemed like that back and forth repetitive motion was ingrained not just into things I had seen in videos, about that embarrassing idea called ‘jerking off,’ but also in the very craving for a similar caress that Ivan had awakened only a few moments before. My masked kidnapper had exploited that need, and to my dismay provided that lewd friction until I had come for the first time, after my whipping on my own bed. Ivan, on the other hand, seemed to have brought the need to an urgency I hadn’t dreamt it might attain. My breathing grew even quicker and more ragged as I started to move my hands lightly up and down the pulsing shaft that reminded me, with a hot blush, of a baseball bat in its hardness and girth.
“A little more firmly,” he instructed. “Not too much.”
The sheer arrogant authority in his voice brought a little whimper from my throat. A moment later he made me repeat the humiliating noise, as he reached out both his hands to hold my head gently around the back of my skull, twining his strong fingers in my hair.
I tried to obey him, tightening my grip a bit as I moved my little hands up and down. A rumbling grunt emerged from his chest, a surprised sound that I thought must indicate pleasure—surprised pleasure, even. I felt a hot surge of bashful pride, but the pressure of his hands on my head cut it off with a new thrill of anxiety. It seemed that the lewd delight my hands had provoked made him ready to demand more.
I stiffened a little, and Ivan’s hands eased the downward force they had begun to exert.
“It’s time,” he said though, his voice stern. “Open your mouth, Heather, and put your tongue over your teeth.”
I opened my mouth, because of the wand. I wanted to think that the wand made me relax my resistance to my master’s hands, but he hadn’t given me any such command, and I knew it. I wanted to think that the mission—the mission to destroy this criminal who had the gall to purchase me—made me do it.
But I knew. I knew I let him bring my open lips down to the head of his cock because I needed to be a girl who had to suck her owner’s rigid penis or get a whipping.